A Doctor Who FanFic: Eleven OC
by ConstellationCat
Summary: In a universe without Rose or River Song, The Eleventh Doctor is sick of Amy and Rory's lovey-dovey goo, so he sets them down at their house and goes off to 2012 New York to sulk about his own lack of romance. Once he gets there, he meets Sandra, an imaginative and wonder-filled woman with whom he falls in love. Will The Doctor finally learn to love back, or will he give her up?
1. Chapter 1

About the story: In a universe where there is no River Song or Rose, Eleven has never been romantically entangled with anyone and is rather lonesome, getting jealous of Rory and Amy's relationship. Going on a short voyage on his own to 2012 to calm down, The Doctor meets someone he really, really likes, but tries to stay away from out of concern for her safety.

About the OC: Meet Sandra, a raven haired intellectual who daydreams the hours away. Trapped in a dull office job, Sandra longs for a whimsical world like the ones she writes about in her free time. On her way home, a beautiful blue box appears on the subway and she's whisked off into an adventure she could never have even thought possible meeting a man she couldn't have imagined falling for in her strangest dreams.

**(OK, Time for an author's note: I recently received a review explaining the reviewer's dislike of my excluding the existence of River and Rose, which made me think that perhaps I should include them but instead of their being romance between them, simply platonic, caring friendship. Because the reviewer is right- the Doctor would be a different, perhaps less great man without these women. Vote in the reviews, please! I'm counting the reviewer's as one for including them, but as friends. I don't want my whole story falling apart, and I don't want to tread on other's OTPs.)**

**ON TO THE STORY!**

_Somewhere in time and space..._

Amy and Rory were snuggling in the TARDIS, watching a movie on one of the many screens hidden inside the ship's infinite depths. Eleven was jumping around, his usual hyperactive self, hoping someone would notice him. The Universe was pretty peaceful right now, which meant that The Doctor was bored out of his skull and looking for some, any, kind of excitement.

"HEY! Guys, why don't we go to Earth during the Sixties? I hear lots of weird goings-on were ahappening then! So, whaddya say?" The Doctor ran into the screening room and leaned over the edge of the couch, pushing his face between Amy and Rory's and receiving two very unhappy glares from the lovey-dovey humans he had split up.

Rory was the first to pipe up, coughing into his fist then speaking calmly, as though The Doctor were a six year old boy rather than 900 year old Time Lord.

"Look, Doctor, that sounds very fun and all but... Amy and I were in the middle of something." Rory glanced to his wife, and his wife to him.

"OH, fiiiiine then, get back to your cuddling," The Doctor sounded like a spoiled child, huffing out the last word.

"I'll just drop you off at home, then. You can cuddle there until I come and get you." The Doctor made a grumpy face and hit the TARDIS' brakes, opening the door to reveal the Pond's house.

"Well, alright, Doctor. Just come back soon, OK?" Amy kissed The Doctor's cheek and his heart softened.

"I'll be gone only a minute..." He smiled happily, knowing that he could do that. They might not even have time to miss him.

The TARDIS began to groan, shift in and out of vision, then was gone.

"So... to the couch?"

"To the couch."

And the Ponds darted off to more snuggling.

New York, New York, 2012

Sandra Lakesdown sat at her grey desk in her greyer yet cubicle. Her cubicle was near a window, overlooking a busy but boring street in the business sector of New York. Bland, tired business suits made of itchy fabric. Tasteless food. Mindless work. Polite but formal speaking. Nothing keeping her here but her paycheck.

Sandra rested her head on her hands and looked out out of the window, listening to the beat of the office.

_Clip, snip, clack, type. _The room said. People working in unison. All one mind made of hundreds of different, wonderful personalities tangled together. Sandra sighed and thought about her life.

She had gone to college, graduated with high honors, and came to work here. She had been at this company for four years, and had moved up quickly. She headed the department she now sat in, but had turned down the bigger office. She didn't see a point in having a large, empty office. She had a colorful apartment filled with books and antiques, but she was lonely- no one seemed to even know she was real other than her subordinates, who didn't even really care about her. She stood up slowly, pulled a sticky note off of her pile of them- this time a bluey one- and scrawled a message to her best office friend, Clara.

_Dear Clara,_

_You've got the bridge._

_Love Sandra_

Often when Sandra got tired of work her boss would let her out early to take the train home, so Sandra would set Clara in charge. No one minded as Clara was a sweet, well-tempered girl who could keep the office in control while allowing for a bit of relaxation.

Sandra picked up her brief case, stowing away the day's debris and heading out. Her dull high heels clacked on the tile as she headed for the elevator, descending from the eleventh floor to the lobby.

She stepped out, waved to the security guards and to Old May, the Secretary, who always made her cookies, and walked through the crowded but lifeless streets. She pulled her black hair out of its tight bun and let it fall in its waterfall form down her back and stepped lightly onto the subway headed off to her stop. It was late in New York, and the sun had gone down. But Sandra didn't fear anything- she had been living here long enough to know how to avoid weirdos and dangerous people.

The car she was riding in was empty beside herself, which was a bit odd, but Sandra paid no mind. She was off in her own imagination. Today, she was fighting dragons with a prince at her side, taking on the huge beast then realizing it meant no harm. Slowly, sadly, the story came to completion and Sandra sat alone, on the subway, headed off to another day of mundanity.

Then, from the other end of the car, she heard a strange, impossible noise. One she had never heard before. She turned, her eyes widening as she saw a blue telephone box slowly start to appear on the train.

She stood up abruptly, staring at what was forming on the subway. When the whole thing had materialized, Sandra ran towards it and put her hand to it.

"Oh, wow," She whispered. "What..." She read the notice on the front, took in the sign "POLICE BOX" and mumbled something about a dream.

She heard something click at the door and saw a shadow pass over the window. The door swung open and out came a surprisingly good-looking man in a tweed jacket and bowtie. He walked right past her, hands in his pockets as he grumbled, taking in what was around him.

"Good, yeah, empty..." He kicked at a fallen newspaper and sat down on the nearest worn seat, still ignoring Sandra. She stared at him, observing everything about him.

_He dresses like a hipster. Look at those too-short trousers and boots... and who wears a bowtie nowadays anyways? Not that I don't like the look... It's rather unique._ She went on like this before turning to see where he had come from. She looked into the box and gasped as she saw it went on farther than was even possible. A whole room with a ginormous control panel was inside, and she took a step up inside of it when an alarm went off.

The man started and noticed her for the first time. "WHOA, WHOA, take a step back there!" He ran up to her and pulled her out of the box.

"Who're... what?" Sandra looked up at him, wonder in his eyes.

"Yeah, OK, did NOT know you were there..." He inspected her from head-to-toe, scanning her, and Sandra suddenly felt uncomfortable. She stepped back and the man realized he was making her nervous.

"Whoa, hey, it's not like that!" He blushed, as did she, and he stuck out his hand.

"I'm The Doctor! Nice to meet you! And you are..?" Sandra took his outstretched palm and shook it.

"Sandra Lakesdown. And what kind of name is 'The Doctor'? Are you some kind of performer?And WHAT is UP with THAT?" She gestured into the box and just as The Doctor opened his mouth to reply, the train shook to a halt. The muffled voice over the intercom announced Sandra's stop, and she looked between The Doctor and her station.

"Is this yours?" He said, pointing with his head at the open doors.

Sandra nodded, and The Doctor waved her inside the box as he stepped in. She put her foot in warily, expecting another alarm to sound, but when none did, she relaxed.

"OK, name the place you need to be!" The Doctor shouted over the noises in the room. Sandra gaped at the hugeness of the space and, halfheartedly said,

"Ten twenty one Oak Ridge, apartment 2b, New York, New York." She was still staring at everything when she heard him laugh, and was surprised by how childish and mirthful it was.

"Alrighty! Off we go~!" He pulled a level on the control panel and the noise started up again, the mysterious, inexplicable, unparalleled sound.

"What is this is thing?" Sandra called over the sounds of The Doctor's laugh and the roar of whatever was happening. She fell down at the place began to shake violently, and she clutched at the hand bars around the panel.

"It's my TARDIS! It's the most wonderful thing ever!" The Doctor wasn't even looking at Sandra as he spoke- he was staring up in joy at the ceiling of the "Tardus"...

Sandra laughed- her dreams were finally coming true! This was too amazing. Both turned and grinned at each other, then went back to enjoying the madness.

The Doctor was flying in the TARDIS with this brand-new Sandra and was smiling like mad. He loved the sensation of the flight of the TARDIS, but he was also liking this new girl. He looked at her casually, taking in the business suit that looked rather uncomfortable and the wide grin that had come to dominate her face. He smiled and went back to flying. He yanked the brakes, slid open the door, and gestured out.

Sandra's mouth fell open as she stepped out into her apartment with the addition of an impossible box in it.

"H-how? What?" She laughed and looked around her in wonder. She stuck her head in and it brushed The Doctor's chest, prompting a rare blush from his face.

"The TARDIS is a time machine. She can move through time and space." The Doctor spoke, looking down at the curious and excited face.

Sandra breathed out and stared at him.

"You must've seen some very amazing things." Her eyes were wide, but somehow calm, as though she were already used to the idea of time travel.

"Yeah. I've... I've seen some impossible things."

The Doctor adjusted his bowtie and strode into Sandra's apartment, leaving her behind as he poked through her belongings. Every wall was covered in bookshelves crammed full of novels and instruction books- textbooks, history books, fictions, scif-fi, all of it was there. The woman was living in a library. Her desk was neatly organized with an old-timey typewriter centered on it. In it remained the beginnings of a story about a madman who sailed the seas in a deep blue ship. The Doctor couldn't help but chuckle and lift the paper, folding it and storing it away in his pocket. Admittedly, it was theft, but he was sure she wouldn't mind.

"Um, excuse me, uh, 'The Doctor'... But what're you doing?" Sandra came over and moved protectively over her desk, clearly embarrassed by her home.

He paused, looking around.

"Do you believe in Narnia?" He asked, nonchalantly. He looked at her and saw her delighted expression at the question. When she saw him looking, Sandra hardened her face to that of a woman her age.

"No. Of course not. It's just a fairytale." She sounded sad underneath the tones of disgust, as though saying this hurt her deeply.

"Are you sure...?" The Doctor turned to face her fully, looking into her eyes. She didn't reply, but looked away, out of her window to the nightlife of New York.

"Who are you?" Sandra looked at him, and he noticed a lot of things about her face. No makeup, but still pretty. Her face was completely natural but still good looking. Her eyes were a bright grey that indicated a world of knowledge and wonder inside of her head. He relaxed and laughed heartily.

"I'm The Doctor. I travel through time and space and save things. And eat. What've you got?" He grinned at her and waltzed off to the kitchen.


	2. Chapter 2

(Author's note: I am too in love with this story!)

Sandra watched The Doctor sort through her food, picking up cans and throwing them around the kitchen haphazardly. Her eyes picked up every detail of him and wondered about who he was.

_Time-traveler, huh? Sounds pretty cool. _Sandra folded her arms and rested her back against the doorframe, watching him sniff at the potatoes she had in her cupboard before making a face and setting them back down.

_Why'd he ask about Narnia? That was odd. Well, then again, odd people are always best. _Sandra laughed silently, and held her hand up to her lips to stop the smile from being seen by The Doctor.

"Do you have any custard?" The Doctor hollered, his head wedged into the fridge as he tried to search out any sign of fish fingers.

"No, not really. That's rather hard to come by up in New York, considering this is America." Sandra was still smiling about how childish this man was.

"Well, in a few hundred years time you'll be pretty much drowning in it. New New New York simply can't get enough of the stuff." The Doctor pulled himself out of the fridge and looked Sandra square in the face. Sandra felt she had to say something, so she glanced around and spied a package of dried spaghetti that had landed in the mixer.

"Let me make you something. How do you feel about pasta?" She headed over to the stove, where a pot remained, and reached for the noodles.

"YEAH!" A little cheer escaped The Doctor's lips and he smiled widely. Sandra smiled too, and began to heat up water. She waited, as it was boiling, and began to dice up meat and tomatoes for the sauce. As she leaned down to get a saucepan, Sandra heard a rustling of fabric and stood up, pan in hand. The Doctor was right next to her, dicing tomatoes impossibly fast.

"Can't let you do all the work, can I?" He winked, then went back to dicing. Sandra blushed and too returned to work, scooping up the diced tomatoes and meat and stewing them. After all the cooking was finished, Sandra set places for both of them at the table, each on the opposite end.

She set the plate down before The Doctor, steaming with hot pasta and sauce.

"Here you go! Dig in! Time travel must be a profession that makes one rather hungry..." Sandra sat in her usual seat and without thinking, reached for one of the books off of the top of the pile next to her chair. She really was swimming in books. She cracked the spine and began to read, eating pasta intermittently between pages. Little did she notice the stares she was getting from The Doctor.

~ d(^u^)b - Little thumbs up guy! ~

The Doctor quietly chewed his homemade pasta, feeling unusually hot to the face. He chalked it up to the heated dish he was consuming rather than the beautiful woman sitting opposite him. Sandra began to pass her hands through her hair as she stared at the book in her hands- "Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince". The Doctor smiled to himself realizing she was reading the English copy, his personal favorite, even though he preferred the American covers. She lifted pasta to her lips and let it sit there for a while as she continued to read.

_She must've fallen into her own world. I know that feeling. _

The Doctor sighed and returned to eating, thinking, when he heard Sandra laugh. Her eyes were still focused on the book, so she must've read something she liked. She scanned the pages, a whisper of a smile still lingering on her face. The Doctor pushed aside his finished pasta and came to read over her shoulder.

His face got hot, but he rested his chin on her shoulder and began to read aloud.

" "You are protected, in short, by your ability to love!" said Dumbledore loudly. "The only protection that can possibly work against the lure of power like Voldemort's!" " The Doctor grinned at Sandra, her face reddening from The Doctor's presence in her personal space.

"Isn't it amazing, how J.K. writes about love? It's definitely the most powerful force in the world... I should know. I know a man who waited two thousand years for his wife." The Doctor whispered, memories filling his eyes.

"He must've been a dedicated man." Sandra spoke, shyly.

"He is. He loves her very much, and his wife loves him." After a short pause, he broke out laughing, taking his head off of Sandra's shoulder.

"You know, now that I think about it," he was talking rather loudly, scrubbing his dish in the sink and calling over his shoulder to Sandra, "I'm what brought 'em together!" He grinned, water running in the sink as he pounded away at the dish.

"You did?" Sandra asked, amazed.

"Yep. You don't live nine hundred years without playing matchmaker a few times, eh?" He smiled his big, childish smile, and went back to scrubbing, ignoring the idea digging at his mind, _Yeah, you've played matchmaker for pretty much everyone but yourself. _

"Nine hundred years?!" Sandra's eyes went huge as saucers and The Doctor laughed again.

"Yeah! And I can change bodies! But only when I'm about to die. You know, this is my eleventh face?"

"That's amazing! You know, you look pretty good for a nine hundred year old shapeshifter." She mumbled the last bit but that didn't prevent The Doctor's face from flushing.

"Well, I'm not from Earth, really. I'm from a place called Gallifrey, which has since been destroyed. I'm what's called a "Time Lord", and the last one. So my biology's a tad different."

He bit his lip and stopped scrubbing for a minute. Sandra looked over at him, and he turned away to hide the tears in his eyes.

"It must be hard... Being the last one."

"Yeah. But I manage well enough." He picked up the scrub pad and began more furiously until the dish shined.

"Oh. Alright."

Realizing he had dampened the mood, The Doctor dried off the dish and set it down on the counter with a smile.

"Want to go somewhere?" He leaned back on the sink, crossing his arms and looking at her with a sidelong glance, a smirk dancing on his face.

"Somewhere out in space or something?" Sandra's eyes widened with wonder at the prospect of a romp through the universe.

"Actually, I was thinking more like a movie. What's coming out this year?"

The Doctor gave himself a mental high-five for the nonchalant behavior and casual invitation. He adjusted his bowtie and smoothed his hair as Sandra pulled out her phone, looking up the possibilities.

"Um, let me see... Well, a certain movie about an unexpected adventure comes out in December so, we could go to then...?" Sandra looked up and The Doctor shook his head, a cheeky grin spreading.

"I think we should keep the time travel to a minimum. I know you're desperate to go see it but, I assure you, waiting for it makes it all the better."

"Fine. You pick." She placed the phone in his hands and he blushed at the contact. He scrolled through then decided on a child's film that would be nice for the both of them and picked up his overcoat from inside the TARDIS.

"We're going by foot, OK? Because I'm pretty sure I can leave this in your apartment, no problem, right?"

"Right." Sandra locked the door and they made their way to the theatre.


	3. Chapter 3

(Author's note: The contest is over! River and Rose are out of this universe. I did this so as not to upset any OTPs and to make this story enjoyable for all, so please have a read and have fun! 3 )

SANDRA'S POV:

Of all the things they could be doing right now- soaring through space, watching supernovas, jousting- The Doctor and Sandra were headed off to the nearest movie theatre, which happened to sadly be the "North West Cineplex", which was not exactly a theatre held in high repute.

The air was surprisingly cold, and Sandra could see her breath. Everything around them was chilled, and a slight gloss had settled over the world, filling it with possibility and wonder. Snow was clearly imminent, and The Doctor's eyes shone with child-like joy at the glimmer of flakes about to fall. Sandra stood in the cold, allowing herself a moment of thought as she studied him further.

_A man from space. A man with eleven faces. The last one._

It broke her heart for a moment to think that this wonderful, magical, absolutely unique man had no one like him in all the expanses of the universe. But then she took in his serenity and realized that while he missed his own kind, all he needed was someone by his side to comfort and to guide him, someone he could count on to be truly happy.

She smiled and turned away, walking to the ticket stand.

She paid for the two tickets as The Doctor was clearly penniless, and pushed open the door to the cinema, greeted with a burst of hot air from the overhead ducts. The Doctor followed her inside, glancing over his shoulder to see if snow was coming down yet, and Sandra put her fingertips over her mouth to stifle a giggle. He turned, looked at her, and burst out laughing, tilting his head back and letting it all out. A few stares from the surrounding couples brought him back, but both of them were smiling at each other, and they headed to their theatre to take their seats.

The opening credits rolled, and Sandra felt the sudden, inexplicable urge to turn and look at The Doctor. She held her head forward, despite the feeling, and focused intently on the film, but a nagging sensation kept filling her head. Finally, she gave in, and looked over sneakily, only to find The Doctor pulling a weird face and slowly, ever so slowly, inching his arm up the seat edge to put it around Sandra's arm as covertly as possible.

Sandra quarreled with herself for a moment, trying to push away her shyness and also trying to fight off her boldness and settled on something rather subtle. She leaned her head forward in a perfect imitation of someone falling asleep, then drowsily, plopped her head onto his shoulder. She opened one eye for a moment and saw his face go startled then, as quickly as the look came over, blase. Sandra closed her eyes again and enjoyed the proximity, allowing herself this one fleeting moment of serenity. All was well in the North West Cineplex.

~! (O.O) !~

DOCTOR'S POV:

Inside The Doctor's mind, everything was a blur of colour and light, thoughts bouncing around and colliding, bursting into fireworks in his eyes.

_BREATHE! In, out, in, out... You may have two hearts but you still need oxygen!_

The Doctor didn't dare move- not to breathe, not to adjust himself for comfort, not for anything- for fear of jostling Sandra's head. He could feel his pulse quicken and tried desperately to calm himself down. He decided to take advantage of the situation to get a close look at Sandra.

Black hair, straight, smooth.

An interestingly shaped nose, a small one, with a slight upturn at the end. Playful nose.

Her ears- well, he could barely see them. Who cares about ears anyways?

The Doctor had to use all his might to refrain from stroking her head and cuddling her 'til the both exploded. Instead, he decided to cross and uncross his feet and think about things.

_Wonder how the Ponds are doing... Bet they're still snuggling or something..._

He scrunched up his nose at the idea of his best friends snoodling it up, then smiled.

_Bet they thought I'd never find someone. Self-important Ponds, romantic Ponds..._

Much as he loved his friends, they could be kind of sappy and very pedigreed about their love. It was both heartwarming and repulsive.

He sighed quietly, and The Doctor resisted the urge to rest his head on Sandra's. The movie was wrapping up, and the final scenes were flashing.

Sandra's head moved with a tiny motion, burrowing into the bony shoulder, somehow not bothered by the rough tweed exterior. A sleepy smile was resting on her visage, seeping into her closed eyes that fluttered with silent excitement.

The credits finally wrapped up, a bright but reminiscent song playing over the scrolling letters that spelled out countless names, and The Doctor gently nudged Sandra awake. She didn't respond at first, still sweetly sleeping, and he could barely bring himself to shake her again.

He eventually did, and her eyes opened slightly.

"Good evening, Ms. Lakesdown. Have a nice nap?" She smiled at him, then sat up straight.

"Did I really sleep through the whole film?"

The Doctor patted her hand in mock consolation, and nodded solemnly.

"I'm rather afraid you did. Two dollars wasted on your part, Miss."

"I wouldn't say wasted..." Sandra smiled meekly at him, and The Doctor offered her his hand.

"Care to join me?"

She stood, taking his hand carefully, and The Doctor's whole body shook and went hot. They walked out, joking back and forth, hands joined. As they reached the doors, Sandra smiled wide.

"Look," she whispered. "It's snowing."

The Doctor's eyes went as wide as saucers and he ran out, dragging Sandra behind him in his elation. He stood in the snow, his face turned heavenward, seeking out the tiny flakes, his cheeks red, his eyes alight. He thought of Sandra then turned, one hand outstretched towards her, which she took.

"May I have this dance?" He looked into her eyes, serious and jokingly, everything possible to feel coursing through his veins.

A nod off assent and they were off, waltzing in the snow to no music but their laughter.


	4. Chapter 4

(Author's note- Thank you to all of my readers! This means a whole lot to me! I will continue this story for you! :D )

Sandra's POV:

As the Doctor and Sandra walked home, everything around seemed like one big blur. The people walking by were faceless, unnoticeable. The cars all looked the same, easily ignored. Smiles were shared and laughter rang all around. The Doctor and Sandra. Sandra and The Doctor.

"So, heading home?" She asked, warily. She didn't want him to leave, but he probably had someplace he needed to be.

"Um, well..." The Doctor stopped walking and looked down, lost in thought. His brow furrowed and he stared at his shoes, trying to recapture an elusive thought.

"Have you got anywhere to stay?"

The Doctor's head came up and he looked around.

"I usually sleep in the TARDIS, but the last time I did that, I ended up leaving the engine on and one thing led to another... let's just say I'm no longer welcome at Harlem Globetrotter games."

He smiled his childish smile and Sandra looked fondly at him.

"Well, uh, the couch, um, in my apartment, uh, folds out..."

"Oh good! You can have that, I'll take the master bedroom!" The Doctor clapped his hands, and began to laugh, sparking another chorus of giggles from the both of them.

"That wasn't actually all that funny..." Sandra joked, pushing at the Doctor's shoulder.

"Then why were you laughing?"

This kind of banter continued until back and forth, deepening the instantaneous enchantment further. Both eyes began shining and the world was anew. The cheery mood persisted util they arrived back at Sandra's apartment, when it was tossed from the window.

Sandra noticed the lock was broken and scraped, then she opened the door, and looked, horrified, on the scene.

Her books had been strewn about, torn, pages missing. Paper scraps flew everywhere and all her furniture was scratched beyond belief. The table had been overturned and broken- splinters lay on every imaginable surface. Sandra's family photos had been thrown against the walls and shattered, malice fueling the throw.

For some reason, the TARDIS was untouched; it was the only item in the room still intact. The Doctor ran a hand over its surface then whispered, "Good ol' girl knows when to turn on the camo..."

Sandra walked into the room and fell to her knees. The stress was too much to bear.

"Oh, Lord..." She covered her mouth, leaning down to touch the massacred books. Tears welled in her eyes and began to fall, dampening the pages of her beloved tomes.

The Doctor firmly grabbed her shoulder and bent over the masses of shredded novels.

"You... can't stay here tonight. Call the police and report a break in. I'll start cleaning this up."

Reassured by his voice, Sandra pulled out her cellphone and dialed the numbers "9-1-1". She explained the situation and gave her address.

"They'll be her in a few minutes. What should I..." Sandra began, but saw the Doctor climbing into his TARDIS, his eyes fixed with an odd determination and severity on some item in the distance.

"I have to... go." The Doctor didn't even turn to face her, just went. He closed the door slowly, and the TARDIS began to groan morosely, as if it didn't want to leave.

"I..." Sandra reached out a hand to stop it, but put it back down.

She should have realized earlier.

A time traveler never stays in one place.

She turned from where the TARDIS had been and went to answer the door for the police.

~ (TT n TT) ~

DOCTOR'S POV:

The Doctor closed the door to the TARDIS slowly, his fingers trailing along the wood until the frame could move no more. Then he walked heavily to the control panel, pressed some fancy-pants buttons and listened to the ever-growing roar of the TARDIS. He perked his ears to hear the finer notes that he had grown accustomed to, but couldn't find them now. He passed a hand through the brown mop of hair and collapsed onto the steps.

He put his face to his knees and used one hand to reach into his coat pocket and extract the note he had found taped to Sandra's broom.

He read it again, this time will dull eyes that listlessly fell on the words penned.

_Doctor-_

_If you don't leave this woman, I'll make sure you never find her pieces._

_xxx_

_A very dedicated fan_

__The letter was literally sealed with a kiss- lipstick residue was smeared on the paper that had been folded in half and left where he could find it.

The Doctor balled his fists and shoved them into his eyes, watching the colours that swam before him migrate and shift in a never-ending continuum of rainbow shaded melancholy. He thought of Sandra, and whom he had left behind. He needed to keep her safe. And it was never, ever right for him to fall in love. He would live forever. Sandra would one day grow old and die, leaving him all alone again. She should be allowed to live out her life without someone like him in it- someone who wouldn't fade in and out and leave her alone for who knows how long. Someone NOT always in danger. Someone reliable, trustworthy...

He shook his head and scrunched up his face in sadness. He yelled and hit the dashboard. He decided to go on a rampage, and stormed off to the gym room of the TARDIS. He found a punching bag and leaned it up to a wall, then began hitting. He punched and kicked and hollered at the top of his lungs, a rare sight indeed.

He got bored of the punching bag's lack of response and flipped a weight rack. He threw kickballs and yoga mat, all the while screaming in anger, having a big, old-fashioned super outlet of ire and rage.

He fell to the ground, exhausted, and stared at the ceiling. He could feel the TARDIS' emotions connect to his and knew it was angry, sad, sympathetic, concerned...

The Doctor curled up in the fetal position, his energy sapped by the stress.

_I want to go see the Ponds. _

__He got up, dusted himself off, then walked off to the control panel to direct himself Pondward.


	5. Chapter 5

(Author's Note: Hey there, darlings! Thanks for all the faves, reviews and follows! It's awesome. Truly. This is a shout-out to a reviewer called Futyra (whoever you are!) for all their kind, encouraging comments. Thank you so much! Thank you everyone for your great reviews! Now, onto the story! 3 Constellation Cat)

Sandra's POV:

The police had come and gone, filing this-and-that reports, wrapping her in a blanket, asking questions, taping things. All a big bustle of nonsense and silence- all the officers were tired and uninterested, and flitted morosely from one paperwork folder to the next.

An English, female officer had come in and talked to Sandra for a while, which was rather comforting. Her name was Officer June, (first name Molly), she liked knitting and she was oh-so-terribly-sorry for her. Sandra had liked the little Englishwoman in a rather patronizing way; Sandra was reminded of a child who had recently had the immense pleasure of consuming a little too much sugar.

But, alas, when all was said and done, Officer June had promised to circle the building a few times and watch for any suspicious behavior before heading out the door with one last reminder to get new locks, leaving Sandra alone and deeply frightened.

The Doctor's... whatever that was, paired with the brooding terror of sleeping in a defiled apartment was a sickening sensation. The splinters and shreds had been duly cleaned up, so Sandra had no issue with laying on her back in the middle of the kitchen floor and closing her eyes. She was too unsettled to go to bed, where the robbers may have been and done who-knows-what, but too tired to carry on, so she plopped down and let all her woes sink into the cool linoleum. She spread out her arms and let them go over the slightly bumpy but somehow comforting surface, her fingertips investigating every crevice and pockmark on the smooth-ish ground. Her thoughts drifted, and she came to a slow but very sure conclusion-

_That was, all in all, a good-horrid day._

Sandra got up with exhausted muscles and went to her typewriter. She sat in the chair before it as her eyes soaked up the scene, lost in the horror of giving up entirely. Its casing that had once been a mottled black, dappled with green and sapphire tones was now cut as though claws had raked it thoroughly, attempting to gouge out all signs of Sandra. It looked like some hideous beast had attacked it with the ferocity of a lion cornered.

Sandra had been planning on writing books- books by the dozen. A thousand, million, billion stories all flowing free from this typewriter that was now scratched and marred, ribbons cleanly snipped in two. Black, blue, and red ink smeared the paper left in the typewriter, finally pushing her over the edge. She couldn't stand it anymore- the calmness and coldness had fled from her, leaving a broken child all alone to come to a realization.

She put her forehead to the cold metal of its many keys and cried her eyes out, her sobs pressing the keys, making their melancholy but memorable "clack" that prompted more hot tears.

"Why?" She screamed out, letting everything fall. Her hands banged on the desk and she cried like she had never done before.

Doctor's POV:

The Doctor pushed open the TARDIS' door with an unusually depressed expression. He was in the middle of the Pond's living room, and he collapsed face first into their couch. Where they were sitting, smooching. Awkward.

"DOCTOR!" Both Ponds yelled in unison, kicking him off the couch, where he rolled onto their floor, the drama queen.

"I am sad. Not now."

The Doctor sat up with his back against the sofa, still on the floor. He turned his face up to stare at the Ponds, his eyes big and watery, red from crying. Highly, highly unusual.

"Help me."

The Ponds got off of the couch and sat either side of him, Amy stroking his shoulder motherly and Rory being his slightly uncomfortable best-bro.

"What's wrong? You've been gone less than ten minutes... seems like an awfully short time for you to get all worked up, even by your standards..."

Amy's Scottish accent was reassuring for the Doctor, and his shoulders began to loosen. He sighed and leaned his head onto Amy's shoulder, tired of everything, and began to speak.

He conveyed the story of Sandra, that lovely woman, and their wonderful time together. He discussed at great length every detail about her and their "movie trip" (he was very uncomfortable saying "date"). Then he pulled out the note and thrust it to Rory, unable to look at it further.

After the note had been passed to Amy, the Ponds stared in disbelief at the Doctor.

"So, what you're saying is, you fancy this girl, but she's being threatened and you just RAN?" Rory was incredulous of the Doctor's completely uncharacteristic behaviour- he was a haphazard gent, throwing caution into the wind, so this was just too odd.

"What else could I do? I can't... She deserves better, anyways." He crossed his arms and put his head back on the cushions of the couch, protected by his best friends as he dropped the facade of being eternally carefree and letting them know that he, too, had worries, fears, and concerns.

"Well, duh." Rory prodded the Doctor, who jerked and rubbed where Rory's finger had touched him.

"If you're willing to ditch her at the slightest provocation, I'm guessing she DOES deserve better."

"Rory's right. And he should know about these things."

Amy nodded in assent, and the Doctor sighed deeply.

"I know, I know, but I can't help it. I couldn't risk her getting hurt- that happens to far too many people in my life."

"If you like her so much that you'd leave her to keep her safe... Wow, sounds like an overdramatic episode of some kinda soap!"

Amy and Rory smiled, and the Doctor laughed a little.

"I say that while danger'd be present, you'd better get back to her. You always know a way out or sticky situations, eh?"

Amy elbowed the Doctor, who began to suspect that the couple's constant prods and pokes meant that they needed some "alone time", which he had come to learn over the course of many months of awkward scenes meant he better pack up and move along if he didn't want to walk in on something less than prudish.

The Doctor stood and hugged both Ponds, still worried but less so than before. He smiled once, nodded, winked, and was off.

RANDOM INSERTION OF PONDS' POV:

"That boy..."

The Ponds stood hand in hand for a moment, as the TARDIS began to shift in and out of reality, watching it fade away. When those familiar strains of TARDIS brakes was gone, Amy and Rory turned to face one another.

"Our little man's growing up- he's got a girl he fancies... and it looks serious..."

"There may be a Gallifreyan wedding on our horizons."

Rory was joking, but Amy's face was totally stoic. Serious as anything.

"Oh my- you don't really?"

"I don't know yet, but in all the time we've known him, has he ever gotten like this?"

Amy stressed the "ever" with that certain way she had, and Rory decided now would be an excellent time to back out and not further risk their marriage.


	6. Good Gracious! Please read (not story)

Dear Readers...

I hate to make a whole chapter an authors' note, but this is SUPER important!

It has come to my attention through the absolute kindness of a very lovely reviewer that I've made some big mistakes regarding Sandra's occupation and just New York in general. I've never been, and I don't know a thing about it, so you'll have to forgive me. I'm going to go back and re-write it to make everything work!

Sorry again, dearies!

And thank you to Jewelgirl04 for her/his (I don't know for sure, but I can make one heck on an educated guess) contributions!

With greatest embarrassment and love,

Constellation Cat


	7. Thank you for everything

Dearest readers,

Thank you for coming this far!

I've been taking a little holiday break and will get back to work ASAP!

Thank you so much.

With love,

C.C.


	8. Chapter 6

(DOCTOR'S POV:)

"Sandra! Sandra, I am so sorry, I didn't-"

The Doctor had just landed the TARDIS in Sandra's living room, just where he had before, and had thrown open the doors. He had come about two weeks after his departure so as to not startle Sandra and give her a little room. He had come, fully expecting her to be there, doing something- maybe reading- and they'd talk it all out. But instead of her chaotic, cluttered room, there was emptiness. Sandra's apartment was bare. The floors were free of towering piles of paperbacks- there was no fold-out couch. Her kitchen lay abandoned, no scrap of Sandra's existence remaining. The Doctor stepped out, limply setting his foot onto the newly swept floors.

"What..." He whispered, seeing the barren wasteland of a room before him.

"SANDRA!"

He ran through all the rooms, searching for some evidence of a previous tenant by the name of Sandra. He ripped all the doors open, every cupboard and closet and bathroom, but there was nothing to be found. Not even a note.

"It's got to be the wrong time. I came too early. That's it. It has to be."

The Doctor ran back to the TARDIS and checked the date. Exactly two weeks after he left.

He typed her name into his database, scanning for any kind of information. He stared, frantically, as the screen loaded.

"C'mon, old girl, C'MON."

When the file finally opened, all that came up was a note.

"Hello, Doctor.

Didn't heed my warning?

Too bad.

She's with me.

Come get her.

We're on the London Eye.

Midnight sounds melodramatic enough, doesn't it?

Come on foot. It'll be fourteen days after you listened to me, if only for a little while.

I'll be waiting...

- Your biggest fan in all the land"

The Doctor grit his teeth as a wave of nausea overtook him. He thought of all the horrid things that could be happening to Sandra at this moment and his hearts both felt stressed.

"Nothing better to do than wait then, eh?"

The Doctor hopped out of the TARDIS, faking cheeriness, and closed the door with a secure "snick" behind him. He tapped the blue box once and it shimmered, turning itself invisible.

"Good job, m'love."

And he stepped out into the hallway, plastering on a happy face as he went out to go and try to diffuse a hostage situation.

~ (SANDRA'S POV) ~

Sandra had moved out of her apartment after the letters had started coming.

It had begun as though it were just a little practical joke- you know, stuff like "I can see you" and "What's for dinner?" printed on cards shoved under her door. She'd almost thought they were funny until they got more grave. For instance, one that came when she was reading a short expose on the works of Dickens. A knock had sounded on her door and she'd put the book down. She'd opened up the door to see no one, then picked up the letter with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

She read it and screamed.

"I know you were with the Doctor. I'm going to hurt you."

She dialed 9-1-1 and explained the letter situation. Noting her apartment had already been targeted for vandalism, the police decided she would be safer moving to a more secure state. She had agreed with some trepidation- she'd wished for the Doctor to come back many times, hoping he would explain and stay. But he never came. After a few days, Sandra had agreed and resigned herself to the fact that the Doctor had better and more wonderful things to think about than some city girl. She had quit her job, with a little sadness, and gone to live in Connecticut where she would be safe.

She had gotten a job at an antiquitarian bookstore and was rather happy. But more often than not, she ended up staying up late at night, waiting for a blue box with an impossible, grandiose hero to come back, and she would cry a little. She missed the Doctor terribly, and it ate at her every day.

One day, at work, she had seen an odd figure enter the shop. The bell over the door had rung, and a large, hooded figure came in. They had moved silently through the rows, helping themselves to armfuls of books, yanking them off the selves with reckless abandon.

When they had arrived at the counter, Sandra couldn't see their face and was very unnerved.

"Uh, excuse me, but will this be all?"

She had counted the books up and brought up the total price, but the figure just stood there. Then it laughed.

"You're dumber than you look. I don't get what he sees in you..."

Offended, Sandra crossed her arms.

"Excuse me? Do I know you?"

"No. Shut up."

"Pardon me?"

"Gah, you really are dull."

Then, from within the folds of the cloak, the figure pulled out what appeared to be a gun.

_Holy... What do I do?_ 911?

Sandra panicked and resolved to throw books at the attacker. She hurled a large copy of "The Complete Works Of Shakespeare" at the figure's head, but it dodged and fired, sending a projectile into Sandra's neck. Screaming, she went down and all was dark.

(Sorry, this is so short, but I really wanted to give you guys something for being so patient so I wrote this all in one night. I hope you like it! Much love, C.C.)


	9. Chapter 7

~(SANDRA'S POV:)~

"Ugh..."

Groaning a bit, Sandra opened her eyes slowly, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her neck. She felt like there was something, a constant, tingling pressure in her neck and she stretched her fingers up to where she felt the pain issuing from. Her fingertips dusted over cold metal and plastic, and she panicked. In a fit of terror, Sandra's hand curled around the mid-sized dart lodged in the side of her neck and yanked, removing it painfully. She suppressed a scream as she felt hot blood trickle daintily down.

"Oh. You're awake. Too bad."

She hadn't noticed before, but when Sandra looked up, she saw she was in a glass room with an oval floor, its surface rough. A bench stood above her head, and the walls gleamed with the light of a city at night. As she turned her head, she saw the same hooded figure as before standing, bored, in a corner, one hand resting on the safety railing encircling the cabin.

"What the HELL is going on, and where am I?" Sandra spat, forgetting her usual manners and hatred for swearing.

"Naughty naughty, miss. Language. You're just here for a little visit, that's all- someone might be coming the get you soon, although..." The figure's voice trailed off, only to be replaced with low, subtle laughter. A few chuckles later, Sandra had enough and began to try to stand. Her muscles contracted, but fell apart, shaking, and she collapsed to the scratchy floor, scuffing her hands.

"Miss, I've given you a very strong tranquilizer and muscle relaxant. While I'm afraid that for the most part its worn off, some residual effects remain, meaning you won't be going anywhere anytime soon."

Sandra brought her teeth together and hissed mightily, much like a cat would, managing to get out the words "Face me, coward," like she remembered reading, once.

The figure chuckled and shrugged, taking one black gloved hand and reaching up towards the hood, tugging downwards. With one taut motion, the fabric fell, revealing a head of bright white hair that swooped low. The person beneath turned and made eye contact with Sandra, who gasped, knowing full well who the person before her was.

"W-what? But, you're only... A legend... A story!"

"But all legends are imbued with some truth."

~(DOCTOR'S POV)~

The Doctor stood in the airport terminal, faced with quite the predicament.

"Well, pfft. Didn't occur to me..."

Reaching into his trouser pockets, the Doctor felt for loose change or some method of obtaining a plane ticket. It hadn't crossed his mind in his frantic search for Sandra that "by foot" meant minus TARDIS travel from New York to London. In one night. The idea had punched him in the face halfway down the corridor and his breath had been stolen away. He ran, calling a cab and demanded to head to the nearest airport, to which the cabbie replied he'd get him there lickety-split with a little "persuasion", as he put it. The Doctor had removed his Sonic Screwdriver and held it menacingly, encouraging the taxi man that this ride would be on the house and quite punctual. When he arrived, the Doctor had insisted that his flight was an emergency, but had been refused by an exceptionally heartless terminal attendant, who explained he needed a ticket if he expected to get anywhere. The last, non-stop flight was leaving in five minutes and the Doctor had yet to procure a solution.

"Dang it all..." He fumbled, angrily, in his jacket pocket and lining too. He gasped in joy when his fingers alighted on what he'd been looking for- his conveniently left Psychic Paper. He ran to the terminal and flashed the paper, claiming it to be a ticket. As a new attendant's shift had begun, the Doctor went unrecognized and he made it to his flight just in time.

Sinking into his seat, the Doctor nervously tapped his foot and drummed his fingers, much to the annoyance of his rowmate.

"Eh, buddy, your wife givin' birth or somethin'?" He man muttered colloquially.

"Something like that, yes."

"Give it a rest, m'wife's had three and made it through OK. Can't say the same for me, though, right?"

The man elbowed the Doctor, hoping to elicit a calmer response. All he received for his efforts was an awkward smile and increased finger drumming.


	10. Chapter 8

~(DOCTOR'S POV:)~

Finally! He was off the plane and in London. He stretched while running, tugging his arms in different directions and generally looking like a spastic ape, hurling himself madly through the airport. Jogging faster, the Doctor didn't have time to look around him. If he had, he would've noticed something very odd about all of them, something just barely tangible.

He burst through the main gates, sailing past figure after figure, all a flurry of bland colors as the Doctor raced to find Sandra. He blinked and for a second, one of the people caught his eye. He froze in his tracks and turned, slowly, to get a better look.

"What in all the blue blazes...?"

Everyone in the airport, everyone, was coated in a light, pale, baby blue layer of ice, stopped completely. He wouldn't have noticed before- the ice was incredibly thin but clearly very strong, as all these people were being held captive by it. The Doctor, slightly frazzled, removed his Sonic Screwdriver and scanned the ice, wasting moment after moment, but caught up in this new discovery. Leaning in, he snapped the Screwdriver shut with a resounding "shnick" and stared into the middle distance, muttering phrases to himself. He walked with purpose towards the door, calling over his shoulder to the icy masses-

"I'm going to save you, just be... chill!"

He giggled at his own tasteless pun and hurried, concerned but confident now that he knew who the kidnapper was. He went to a nearby hardware store and grabbed some lighters, stuffing his pockets with as many as he could.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry! I'll return these later, I swear, I am so sorry, this is for humanity's good."

The Doctor was talking to the frozen carcasses of the cashier and his protege, both of whom were sitting behind the counter and watching what appeared to be "Grease" on a small, rinky-dink wind-up TV placed atop the register.

"I'll just, uh, leave you to it, then... Sorry about this. I'll get this back to you, really."

Grabbing the keys from off the counter next to the manager, the Doctor ran to the car that beeped when he set off the 'unlock' button and gunned the ignition. Revving the engine, the Doctor momentarily forgot that he couldn't really drive a car like this and backed out into the lot with a ferocity usually reserved for drivers over 50 and women going through labor pains.

~(AFTER A FURIOUS TRAFFIC BATTLE THROUGH THE STREETS OF LONDON VIA KIND-OF-STOLEN CAR)~

Standing before the great Wheel, the Doctor checked his bulging pockets again.

"Welp, this is all I can do- best hope it works."

He strutted forwards towards the wheel which had stopped its turning, somehow. From below, the Doctor could see a light flashing in the topmost cabin- the one so conveniently trapped atop the wheel, furthest from his position on the ground. Smiling sadly, he reached into his pocket and produced the Sonic, headed for the wheel's control room.


	11. Please Read If You're Awaiting Next Chap

Dear Wonderful Readers,

I'm sorry about the long wait.

I'm afraid I got into an accident and things got kind of bad, so I may not be able to write for a while more. I'll try, but things are a little serious.

Thank you for your patience, understanding, and willingness to keep reading.

Please stay loyal even though we're apart, my lovelies.

CC.


End file.
